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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27809302">Advent Calendar 2020</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aithilin/pseuds/Aithilin'>Aithilin</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Final Fantasy XV</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Advent Calendar, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Established Relationship, Family Fluff, Fluff, Good Parent Regis Lucis Caelum, Holiday Traditions, Holidays, M/M, family traditions, seasonal fluff</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 16:54:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>18,711</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27809302</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aithilin/pseuds/Aithilin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Nyx has been in Lucis for years, he has celebrated all of the holidays there are in every manner introduced through the Crown City. But this is the first year celebrating the winter holidays with Noctis. </p>
<p>There are 21 days leading up to the Winter Solstice in Lucis. The holidays have always been busy and full of stories.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Noctis Lucis Caelum/Nyx Ulric</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>88</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>51</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Decorations</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/JazzRaft/gifts">JazzRaft</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/glaivenoct/gifts">glaivenoct</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Among the royal hoard of ancient trinkets and baubles stashed away in the mysterious depths of the Citadel were the most adorable handmade decorations Nyx had ever seen. He had stumbled across the box when recruited to bring out the formal decorations meant to be handled by the small army of staff currently cleaning and organizing the hundreds of boxes of gold garlands and silver stars that would decorate the welcoming areas of the lower levels for the public. Multicoloured lights had trailed out after staff members under the ever-vigilant eye of Ignis Scientia, and his own personal staff of painfully organized interns rushed from box to box with lists of inventory and an infinite supply of pens. </p>
<p>Nyx was happy to stay out of the way, retrieving boxes from the tops of storage shelves and confirming the labels as Ignis called for them. He had remained obediently perched on a sturdy ladder for most of the morning as he checked labels and easily passed them off to some wide-eyed intern who had thought serving in the royal household would be more glamorous than carrying dusty old boxes between storage rooms. He’s not even sure how he had been volunteered for the task, but Nyx suspected it had something to do with saying duty at the Citadel was an easy shift. </p>
<p>It wasn’t until most of the decorations had been removed that he even spotted the much smaller collections with their neat and handwritten labels in the back of the storage closet. Some were in similar plastic storage containers, but colourfully dressed and designed in a way the impersonal stock of the Citadel annual events were not. Others further back were sealed into plastic storage, but Nyx could see the archaic chests, the decorative wooden boxes, even the odd shine of brushed and patterned metal gleaming in the dim light beyond.</p>
<p>“The family has their own, of course,” Ignis offered when he glanced through the collection still left on the shelves. “I think there are several boxes still in restoration with the archives as well. We may need to sort through those later.”</p>
<p>“Restoration?”</p>
<p>“There are some of those,” Ignis waved off his troops to their new tasks; “that are decades old, if not older.”</p>
<p>Nyx tugged at one box from the back of the closet, grinning at the carefully printed writing before looking down at the young Head of the Prince’s Household. “You do understand that I’m going to look through these, right?”</p>
<p>Noctis’ name was clearly written in the clear, precise print Nyx recognized as the King’s own hand. A childish scribble below marked a much younger Crown Prince’s imitation attempt in a now fading crayon. He caught Ignis’ smile as the box was moved closer to the fore, the light catching the label. “Just be sure to inventory what’s in there and leave it in my office when you’re done.”</p>
<p>“Office after snooping, got it.”</p>
<p>“I believe ‘Yes, Sir’ is still the standard, Ulric.”</p>
<p>“You’re not my commanding officer, Scientia.”</p>
<p>“Not yet.” But Ignis took the box from him as he climbed down the ladder, handing it back once there was no risk of dropping it. “My office, two hours.”</p>
<p>“Two hours,” Nyx nodded, already peeling back the dusty lid of the colourful container to eye the glittered monstrosity of Noctis’ childhood festive projects. </p>
<p>It took three minutes to spread everything out. To assess what went where and group the strange collection of drawings and crafts according to the neat little inventory sheet Ignis had left him with by way of excuse should someone wander in from the busy hallways. There were collections of drawings, most with lines of glitter rubbed away from years of storage; drawings of fairytale creatures and childish re-tellings of the seasonal stories came next with all the embellishments that could be managed with a pack of crayons and the seemingly infinite time of a young boy. He had set them out in piles, grinning as the years dragged on and the Prince’s talents were honed from colourful scribbles to recognizable forms. </p>
<p>“I thought Iggy was joking.”</p>
<p>Sullen steps joined the incredulous remark in the storage room, the glitter that had already spread across the table Nyx had claimed as a workspace inching closer to the Crown Prince’s black clothing as he took a seat. “I’m doing inventory.”</p>
<p>“You’re supposed to be on guard duty.”</p>
<p>“That too,” Nyx lifted a tiny silver misshapen star crudely fastened by too much glue and d=held aloft by a fraying ribbon. “Remember this?”</p>
<p>“Categorically, no.”</p>
<p>Noctis was smiling though as he picked through the pile of trinkets that had been added to the little crafts and decorations. Strings of ribbon were unravelled and untangled from others, little pouches of fine velvet dumped with their contents across pictures of monsters frolicking in the snow. Clay figures stamped out with cookie cutters, painted in sloppy large strokes, were set aside with their bent hooks and faded ribbons. Noctis lifted one with a a small concerned frown. </p>
<p>“I think this was supposed to be Iggy,” he announced to the room, and Nyx looked it over until he could make out the faint outline of glasses and what was probably some ridiculous bow given the lines at the figure’s throat. “Definitely Specs.” </p>
<p>There was the King among the little figures and numerous drawings, and Nyx recognized the Captain in others— fighting monsters, standing taller than the King with his sword out. There was a stern young Gladio and a bespectacled Iggy scattered as often as the King— all slowly gaining more definition in their depictions as the Prince’s own talents and practise developed. The collection reminded Nyx of the decorations back in Galahd. </p>
<p>There had been years spent in the quiet nights stringing together colourful papers and scattering the tiny scraps leftover from cut snowflakes that they had almost never seen. He remembered his own childish drawings of the season— ornaments of red clay stamped out with a cherished cookie cutter stolen from his mother’s drawer, and the same fraying, faded sorts of ribbons. </p>
<p>He held up one of the misshapen stars. Years rattling around the keepsake box had chipped and blunted its odd pointed edges, and the dark paint the young Noctis had used had faded and rubbed raw on one edge. There was a silver star painted within the shape— delicate and traced with glitter that had long since spread to other surfaces— and the most delicate little ‘N’ carved into the back of it. Admiring the simple ornament, Nyx smiled; “I’m keeping this one.”</p>
<p>“What? Why?”</p>
<p>“Because it reminds me of you, little star.”</p>
<p>“You’re ridiculous.” But Noctis shrugged in a feigned indifference, already piling the rest of the glittering, jingling ornaments and decorations back into the box. “Fine, take it.”</p>
<p>Soon enough, the Citadel would be decorated for the season. The silver garlands and golden lights that had been carted out of storage in the arms of Ignis’ small army would be strewn across every corner, pillar, and desk within public eye while the great gleaming and glass baubles that had seemingly survived centuries would be unwrapped and proudly displayed throughout the halls and ballrooms and open spaces. Nyx knew the sight well— he knew every nook and cranny of the royal heart of Lucis would be set ablaze with the colourful decorations meant to amaze visitors just as much as the sombre traditionalists will delight in the simple elegance of the more familiar glass and chrome— he had stood guard beneath those garlands and lights, watching Noctis slip his way through shadows cut between the displays. He knew that the Citadel would be prim and proper, a shining and perfect star in the city. </p>
<p>It would be a stark contrast from his noisy little distract. </p>
<p>His home was messy and noisy— full of light and music and the mixed smells of cooking food flooding out to the street— and the very image of chaos when compared to the perfect propriety of Lucian sensibilities. Every decoration meant something more than the tradition that it was steeped in. Family, friends, the wayward travelers who stopped through to watch the lights and the snow fall in the brilliant corners of the glowing city; every little trinket was meant to be a part of that tradition just as much as the airs and facades the Lucians enjoyed hid the same depth in the sealed containers stored away. And he looked forward to finding the perfect place to set the marred and scuffled little star he had stolen from the Citadel hoard. “You’ll have to come by and see where I put it.”</p>
<p>“Whatever gets me out of decorating here, hero.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Travellers</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Insomnia was too big of a city to cross in one day. Nyx knew from experience that there was no easy way to just cross the city and still have a day’s plans not be consumed by the travel. He had heard the horror stories from others— impossible commutes, overestimated early starts, beach holidays wasted— about the attempts to cross from one corner to the next. Nyx had thought he had learnt his lesson in trying to travel beyond the comfortable confines of his own little corner without a set plan and contingency in place. </p>
<p>But here he was, up before the sun had even breached the ancient fortifications, waiting on a quiet platform for the train that he would be stuck on for the next hour. Maybe more, if the reports scrolling across the nearest screens about delays and weather were any indication. Travel advisories moved in sequence with the weather, delays and detours for busy lines came with artificial apologies— followed every few minutes by similarly robotic announcements that echoed across across the statement. Men and women travelled around him, some swearing and rushing to another connection, others settling like him on one of the uncomfortable plastic seats to wait while the winds whipped along the tracks with the threat of the snow being forecast two districts over. </p>
<p>“My my,” said the woman who had taken up the seat next to him. </p>
<p>Nyx had been scrolling through his phone, trying to find a reason to be spending his scant few days off travelling across the monstrosity that was Insomnia that wasn’t boiled down to ‘because Noctis asked him to.’ He had barely noticed the woman as she approached the screen next to the benches and tutted, or as she plopped herself down next to him on with her hands folded primly over her handbag in her lap. He noticed her as he felt the fluffy rolls of her heavy coat brush against his arm, and as the tap-tap-tapping of her heeled shoes interrupted the rhythm of the words on his screen as he scrolled through messages. </p>
<p>“My my,” came again, now in time with the impatient tapping of the heel on the concrete platform. </p>
<p>Nyx found himself glancing around for a target of the woman’s attention, until he realized that she had levelled her gaze at him. Though she had glanced away the moment their eyes met. </p>
<p>He smiled— politely, friendly— and it seemed to be all the encouragement she needed. </p>
<p>“What a morning, eh?” She asked; “First they say that there’s no snow, then they say that there may be delays due to fifteen— fifteen!— centimetres on the tracks just the next district over.”</p>
<p>Her fingers joined the taps of her heels and Nyx realized that there was no escaping this without being rude. </p>
<p>“I’m sure,” he tried tentatively; “that it’s just-”</p>
<p>The woman raised a hand to cut him off; “And I need to get a head start on all my shopping! Not that anyone cares, mind you, but I’ve left it very late this year. To think that there’s only twenty days left to get everything done and dusted.”</p>
<p>“I know what you mean.”</p>
<p>“Oh, I’m sure you do, dear.”</p>
<p>Dear. Nyx bit back the grin at that little endearment now floating between them. His fellow traveller seemed to realize her slip and immediately reached an overbearing hand out to his arm. </p>
<p>“I hope you don’t mind if I’m a little forward, young man. I’m just in a state over all this.”</p>
<p>“Not at all.”</p>
<p>“Have you even started your shopping, dear?” You probably have it all done too. I wouldn’t be surprised if I’m the only one in the kingdom not even started. And now it’s going to be delayed because of that snow.”</p>
<p>Nyx offered an absent nod, knowing this type of babbling nervousness. He had seen it before. Countless times, really. The woman, with her fluffy coeurl-print coat and soft leather gloves, reminded him of half a dozen of the old clucking hens back in Galahd. The sort who tutted about town even in his noisy little neighbourhood, gathering in cafes and bistros and the busy aisles of grocery stores to discuss the absolute travesty of the world. </p>
<p>He glanced down at his phone when she paused for a breath in her talk of curses and impossible demands of her extended family. </p>
<p>“I’m so sorry, dear,” she said with the same facade of horror that he had seen cross those same ladies’ faces when they realized just how long they’ve been dominating an already uneven conversation. “Here I am talking about all of these little disasters and you’re probably just on your way to some patient and lovely girlfriend.”</p>
<p>“Boyfriend,” Nyx offered in correction. It was automatic now. He had made the correction without thinking plenty of times through the past few months— with friends, to Glaives, to the men and women who had sidled up to him across the events and restaurants he had found himself following others to when drinks were needed and bad food was calling to satisfy their cravings. </p>
<p>“Oh, how lovely,” the woman offered a sage nod, “I suppose you’re in good company. You know the gossip is that the Crown Prince has a boyfriend of his own.”</p>
<p>“Is that so?”</p>
<p>“Oh yes. It was all the talk a few months ago. I suppose it was always suspected in some way, but I don’t like to gossip.”</p>
<p>“No, of course.”</p>
<p>“Of course.” Another sage nod and Nyx resisted the urge to start texting Noctis this strange encounter. “But you know, word gets around. And they do say that Prince Noctis is out and about with one of the King’s knights! Can you imagine that? Such a romantic, that boy.”</p>
<p>“I’ve heard.”</p>
<p>“Well, I have no idea how it all works, I assure you. Princes and knights just sound like such a lovely fairy tale. Perfect for the holiday.”</p>
<p>There was a mechanical chime sent echoing across the station from the speakers and the announcement that the train was no longer delayed sang out like a blessing. The woman hummed happily at the news, offering a pleased little clap of her gloved hand against the handbag in her lap. “Now we can both get those gifts done. I do hope you have something romantic planned for your boyfriend, dear.”</p>
<p>“Something like that.”</p>
<p>“And of course, you mustn’t forget the Prince’s gift!”</p>
<p>“Prince’s gift?”</p>
<p>“For the charity ball, darling. I donate every year. Just last year I saw the sweet little teddy bear I donated— nothing special, you know, but such a sweet little thing- on the news when Prince Noctis presented it to one of those little orphans he hosts at his ball. It’s not much, but it’s nice to see him smile when he has something to show that the whole kingdom rallies behind his charity work. Don’t you think?”</p>
<p>Nyx knew the ball. And the teddy bear, come to think of it. He remembered handing it over from the pile of donated toys as Noctis had rushed to the side of a little girl who had been scared of the lights and crowd. He remembered the way Noctis had ignored the whole fuss and knelt next to her with the toy, dancing it in front of her as he tried to distract her from the strangeness that made up the Citadel parades. As Gladio and Ignis rushed with their own protective instincts to shoo the cameras back several paces and silence the chaos of those first few moments while reporters clamoured for the Prince’s attention. </p>
<p>“I know what you mean,” he agreed, remembering the panic in Noctis’ eyes when they realized the girl had started crying and he grabbed the first donation offered. And the way the girl had been his ‘date’ for the rest of the event. “Thanks for reminding me.”</p>
<p>“Oh, I’m glad I did. I do look forward to that ball. I went once when I was little, you know. But it was King Regis handing out the toys then. He was such a sweetheart too. Like father, like son.”</p>
<p>The rumble of the train started far before they spotted the lights of its approach. By the time it pulled into the station and the doors opened, the sun had managed to peek over the walls that surrounded the city; barely squeezing through the towering buildings as the heavy grey clouds threatening that snow lumbered in. The woman stood first. She had a neat hop to her feet and a crisp step as she waited for the crowd of rushed commuters to disperse. “Have a lovely holiday, dear.”</p>
<p>“You too,” but it was lost to the noise and Nyx rushed to the next door before the warning came that it would close. </p>
<p>Somewhere across the city, Noctis was waiting. Nyx knew there was a little hotel booked for the adventure away from their home districts. There were two more trains and several blocks’ worth of walking before he reached their meeting point. But as Nyx watched the city rush by with periodic stops, he kept half an eye on his phone. He scrolled through the pictures Noctis had sent the day before— of the colourful lights and the shop windows already decorated. He smiled at the reflection captured in those pictures, of Noctis shadowed by Gladio, barely noticeable between the decorations and toys that had been piled up to entice shoppers. </p>
<p>It was hours of travel before he reached the little restaurant they had agreed to meet in. Hours of traded texts and pictures, and waiting for the connections that would take him just a little closer to the chilly northern districts Noctis had taken a liking to. </p>
<p>“What took you so long?” was the first question to greet him as he made his way through the crowded holiday market. </p>
<p>“You try taking the trains everywhere, little star.”</p>
<p>“No, thank you,” Noctis smiled and brought a still steaming drink that smelled of apples and sugar to his lips as Nyx pulled out a seat. “I think I already got the order for the ball done. Found a shop that partners with an animal shelter. Iggy’s reaching out for the sponsorship.”</p>
<p>“Speaking of,” Nyx grinned at the mention of the event; “you ever think of inviting some of the old guests back?”</p>
<p>“Like, other kids from last year?”</p>
<p>“Older. Like the ones His Majesty would have hosted.”</p>
<p>He could see the idea churning in Noctis’ mind. The King had his own events, his own charities. But they were never as much fun as the little shakeups that had the Citadel flooded with excited children dazzled by the decorations. “I can talk to Dad about it.”</p>
<p>“It’d be fun. Give the news something to talk about.”</p>
<p>“What do you care what the news talks about?”</p>
<p>“If they’re busy with that, then they’ll miss that I’m there as your date this year.”</p>
<p>“Already assuming I’m taking you as my date. That’s bold of you.”</p>
<p>“Going as your date is my gift to you, little star.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Locations</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The holiday was the same, technically. The solstice was the solstice wherever you were in Eos, after all. Nyx knew that. He had always known that. But seeing how the Lucians celebrated the event within the great city had always seemed so alien, despite the years he spent in observation. </p>
<p>The Crown City was awash in the festive colours. Advertisements and public screens had sent the colours tumbling across the rain-slick streets in the southern corners of the city and the snow-covered yards and balconies in the north. The seaside districts— where the old fortifications could be seen rising from their anchors in the waters, bleached and shimmering in the cold sun with the gentle arch of the Wall— had been decorated already for the season as if they expected the snows any moment. </p>
<p>The marketplace normally popular at the height of summer was transformed to a snowless winter wonderland. </p>
<p>Nyx cradled a steaming cider between his hands as he watch Noctis pick through packets and containers of blended spices at a colourful stall. Nets laden with oranges and lemons alternated across the stall’s awning, while strings of summer garlic were wrapped like a garland around its poles and supports. The stall over had lines of dried peppers of every type— arranged in the patterns found throughout the city in the festive red, green, and gold— and packages of ready-to-go bell peppers stuffed with mince and and cheeses are far more appealing display than the jars and bags Noctis was examining. </p>
<p>Down the market avenue was a riot of steam from grills and the colours of competing meals. Stalls that normally sold ice creams and gelatos in the summer heat had changed to skewered meats and grilled fish. Somewhere in the mix, Nyx could smell the blend of spices from home— the cinnamon and nutmeg, allspice and cardamom mixed together in the heat of a thousand baked goods and fresh dishes— wafting through the market on the currents trailing after the shoppers. He could see the familiar branches and bundles amid the Lucian decorations, the cakes and cookies in the hands of those on their way out from the rustic avenue and to the more fashionable shopping in the decorated beach front stores.  </p>
<p>“You’re smiling.”</p>
<p>“I’m happy.”</p>
<p>Nyx grinned around the lip of his paper cup as Noctis grumbled over the crowd and jostling citizens who had no interest in a royal among them. Their concerns were all on the bags and gifts in their hands. And the smells leading them onward to a late lunch by the cold ocean rolling in. </p>
<p>“I’m hungry,” Noctis announced, nose and cheeks red with the wind, “and I got Iggy’s gift.”</p>
<p>“Eat here? Or find somewhere-”</p>
<p>“Warm. Somewhere warm.”</p>
<p>They had been at the market since sunrise, when the place was already packed with the early shoppers searching for the perfect and exotic gifts that had been carried in from the busy ports. Galahd, Altissia, Tenebrae, even Niflheim were all represented among the stalls. They had wandered from the streets lined with trinkets and decorations, to the ones carrying the oddities unique to each corner of Eos. Now they had passed through the avenues steaming and teeming with every type of grocery and dish Nyx had ever seen. Live fish were plucked from tanks and skewered and grilled with Galahdian spices three feet down, directly across from a stall that had colourful Altissian macarons in sets of boxes ready to be gifted. The stall where Nyx had bought the hot cider offered variations with spiced wines and exotic fruits he had never heard of, brandies were offered with each sampling until he was satisfied with a familiar taste from years past. </p>
<p>“I thought I was supposed to be the islander who can’t handle the weather.”</p>
<p>“You are,” Noctis smirked as he retrieved his bags of gifts from Nyx’s arms; “I just have a ‘delicate constitution,’ as Iggy says.”</p>
<p>“He doesn’t say that.”</p>
<p>“He’s been saying it for years.”</p>
<p>“He smacked you with a polearm the other day.” Nyx drained the cider, coughing as the dregs clung to his throat before he tossed the cup in a bin at the end of the market street. “Repeatedly.”</p>
<p>“Iggy is complicated in his opinions. Where do you want to eat?”</p>
<p>The beaches of Lucis were always the quaint commercial hubs of the city. The downtown heart of the Citadel plaza and its environs had always carried the latest in technology and fashion that the best minds of the kingdom could produce, but the busy boardwalks and harbours named for significant landmarks along the Galdin and Caem shoreline had always drawn in the more festive crowds. Benches and parks were crowded with those who had escaped the markets with their prizes and treats. Familiar spiced bowls and palm-sized pastries were everywhere around them. Bistro patios not yet shuttered for the season were vibrant with the attraction of diners just as much as the large cafe windows that had been set by equally impressive shop displays. </p>
<p>“The hotel?” Nyx offered. They had bags to carry, gifts to sort through; their own morning excitements to recover from though they had planned the excursion for weeks. Two nights here, where the festive air was the thickest, where they could wander from sunrise to set without having to consider the hours it would take to cross the city again.</p>
<p>They had made the plans to wander the long streets of markets— though he knew that Noctis had his fishing rod waiting for the right moment in the quiet of the day— returning back to the city centre after a full day of enjoying the crowds without the travel, and then continuing on their way to the next location. The next destination within the city. </p>
<p>Nyx remembered the alien nature of the grand Crown City when compared to his hometown in Galahd. The shining city still rose beyond the immediate facade of the beach front town. It was still the gleaming and glittering festive jewel he recalled dazzling him from the first years he had spent missing the growing silent nights. Deeper in the city, where the snow was just touching down in these early days, he knew that the excitement would be less a distant cheer and more a growing panic. The barkers at the street markets— drawing the crowds in to the stalls and pop-up shops and malls— would add to the chaos of the traffic until they were lost among the endless noise of the plazas. </p>
<p>“You know,” Noctis said as they wandered along the the streets that had been emptied of vehicle traffic for the festivities that still ruled the summery district; “next year we should go to Altissia for all this.”</p>
<p>“The shopping? Or the holiday?”</p>
<p>“The holiday. Get away from Insomnia for a while. Maybe Altissia would be easier to navigate.”</p>
<p>“You’ve never been to Altissia, little star.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Food</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Lucis, at some point, had decided that traditions were something to be packaged and sold around the holidays. Jams, jellies, and bottles lined the shelves under the decorative banners of the season with terms like “authentic” and “homemade” scrawled across banners and printed with sale signs. There were decorative boxes and crates backed with the sort of things Nyx vaguely remembered seeing sold across Galahd in his youth, but looking nothing like what he remembered coming from his mother’s kitchen. Of the samples spread out at convenient corners of shops and just inside the warm doorways, very few of the slices of meat dipped in sauces and tiny cups of sides reminded him of home. The Lucian imitation of the home cooked meal had never sat right with him; the spices were missing, the attention and care that he recalled dragging him into the kitchen to stir pots and check temperatures while his mother all but cracked a whip at him was absent from the little packages and parcels that advertised itself as a complete meal. </p><p>“That smells good,” Noctis said, already poking his way through the pots Nyx had set on his commandeered stove. “What is it?”</p><p>“Food.” The Lucian meals all seemed to miss this chaotic collection of dishes and mess and smells. Nyx lifted a lid from a pot to let the boiling concoction breathe before it boiled over. “And if you’re going to stand there, you can help.”</p><p>Noctis shuffled several steps away from the counter and stove, wisely putting enough distance between himself and the bubbling, steaming mass of delightful smells and strange mixtures to no longer be within recruitment range. </p><p>The kitchen itself was strange enough. The long, empty counters that normally dominated the Glaive lounge and kitchens had been covered in everything from tins gathered from around Eos to bags, boxes, and cartons of produce. Nyx had laid claim early to his little corner, fending off invaders with all the ferocity a wooden spoon to the back of a hand overreaching some invisible boundary. Fridges had been the hottest point of battle— the four that normally were kept empty and clean were suddenly overflowing with labelled bottles and bags. Containers with vague and malicious threats had been piled up on designated shelves, while coolers packed with ice took care of the overflow. </p><p>Noctis had wandered in when he was told his sparring partners were all pre-occupied with the chaos of a festive battleground. The place was more lively than he had ever seen it; with Glaives rushing in and out, debating the merits of a bonfire in the training yards, and arguing over the sources of the ingredients. Libertus had claimed a counter nearby, hands deftly working to skewer whole fish and get them on a covered grill while cursing the limitations of Lucian kitchens. Crowe had shamelessly stolen half her pile of ingredients from Tredd and Luche, erecting a barrier around her little hotplate as she fried something that reminded Noctis of a savoury pancake. </p><p>Others moved alternating between a frantic rush and impatient lounge as pots bubbled and sauces were stirred. </p><p>“What is all this anyway?”</p><p>“Potluck,” Libertus offered, the shine of scales littering his workspace as he glared at the fish still waiting for space on his grill. “Got to make it right, though. Or it’ll all just be your Lucian crap. No offence, Highness.”</p><p>“None taken,” Noctis smirked and took a second fish to tend from the pile Libertus had built. “Why have I never heard of this?”</p><p>“Because, little star,” Nyx said as he moved around Noctis to steal his friend’s stovetop; “you weren’t invited before.”</p><p>“And now I am?”</p><p>“Now you are,” Drautus’ voice boomed over the chaos regardless of how softly he actually spoke. His presence demanded that his Glaives snap to attention, spoons, knives, forks, and skewers in hand until he managed to awkwardly wave them off in dismissal around the box in his arms. “By virtue of Nyx, so you may be on thin ice, Highness.”</p><p>“Yes, sir,” Noctis grinned as Drautos passed, catching the curious and eager glances at the box. There was a weight to the box when it was set down— the heavy connection between box and table seemed to draw all eyes to what may as well have been some new trophy or prize for the competitive Glaives. “Do I get to ask what’s in the box?”</p><p>“A gift from the King,” Drautos waved him over, one hand placed firmly over the still sealed box. He thumped his hand against the box to draw attention to it— as if every set of eyes wasn’t already on him and the mystery he had placed; “You all know the rules: first to guess right gets first choice of the cuts.”</p><p>Noctis realized what it was; the main course. The one unifying feature that they all had access to in some way that would spotlight the feast already being worked on. Stoves were set to lower temperatures, pots left to simmer after a few quick turns with a spoon, and attention was turned to the Captain and the King’s gift. It would have to be something familiar to the regions the Glaives called home. Something that would not upset the delicate balance of his father’s diplomatic sensibilities and maintained a show of good will for both those within Lucis and beyond the Wall. </p><p>“Anak,” Luche called first. Confident and leading, as always as he made his call with a certainty Noctis knew meant he would be amazed or slighted if he was wrong. </p><p>“You wish,” Crowe started, “Dynoaevis. Look at that box.”</p><p>Shouts of different beasts— garula, bulette, arba, daggerquill— were met with groans and cajoles, taunts as each Glaive offered up their own hopes for a stable meat to go with what was already on offer. </p><p>“Royalisk,” Nyx ventured, having left the little territory of his stove with the rest to poke and prod at the sealed box still held in place by the Captain. He offered up a coy smile to the Prince, as if there had been some great secret that he was confident in having solved by stumbling across it with a joke. </p><p>Noctis could practically feel Drautos roll his eyes in exasperation at Nyx’s antic- a gesture matched by Crowe, Libertus, and Pelna— before peeling back one corner of a flap on the box until Noctis could see the cuts of meat neatly sealed and labelled. The butcher had been meticulous with his work; cuts and parts labelled in ways that he had seen stacked in the generous freezers of the Citadel when trailing after Ignis on some new plan to borrow ingredients for an experiment. The only indication of what the creature had been in life and whole was a neat image on each label that illustrated the cut it named. </p><p>At least, that’s what it seemed at a glance. At a closer look he saw an array of familiar fillets and steaks. Each sealed back labelled with the names of fish he had caught at some point or another and that had been staples along the edges of the districts for years. The most prominent being the king catfish that had just gone out of season— clearly stored and frozen fresh whole, now separated into a multitude of steaks separated by labels of where on the fish they were taken from— and the whole phoenix bass he expected were from the Vesperpool.  </p><p>“What happens if no one wins, anyway?” </p><p>Drautos smirks at the question, “Usually all out war.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Emotions</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The little memorials around the city served as a more sombre reminder of the season. No festival in Lucis was complete without a period of mourning for those lost through the year, or the year before, or before that. Nyx had thought nothing of the public sobriety of every festival that seemed to temper open, joyous celebration with the memento mori of the more prominent Lucian crests. He had thought nothing of it in past years, standing guard at the Citadel or at the Wall, or passing the busy memorial plazas on his way about his life. Nyx was used to the sights of festivals with their colours and light airs mingling with the very open walls of names and statues that served as reminders that Lucis was built on its own graves. </p>
<p>Galahd lived with its mourning. </p>
<p>The memorials in his district were not for Lucian kings or nobles, or even the Lucian civilians who had been lost as a natural progression. Instead, Nyx knew that each little light and stick of incense in the windows of apartments and houses he passed represented someone lost in the frantic flight to safety behind the Lucian Wall during the worst of the Nif expansion. He had his own memorial in place to the life he had lost in escaping the worst of the Nif Occupation prior to any peace talks and treaties. The images and reminders of the world he realized had never really existed as he thought it did served as an anchor for years as he swore service to a King he had heard called aloof and disconnected from the real world beyond the now defunct Wall. </p>
<p>But Nyx had seen the man when he wasn’t just a King. </p>
<p>He had stood guard— part of the vigilant background of the Citadel halls— as he listened to the King converse with his Shield. He had watched the way the man had puzzled his way through the political quagmire of Eos with good humour and a thought for the others his choices would affect. </p>
<p>He had seen— in the privacy of family events— Regis show the warmth and steadfast encouragement to Noctis that had endeared him beyond the role of monarch. </p>
<p>“You’re not on duty, right?”</p>
<p>And now, he was going to see the great King of Lucis— the cold and distant monarch who watched the world pass by from his place of secure comfort— mourn. </p>
<p>“No, I’m off for that week.”</p>
<p>He had visited the public memorials with Noctis through the tentative early days of their relationship. A formal guard, a trusted companion, in step with his friends as the Prince fulfilled the public duties expected of him. There had been public memorials, festivals for the dead Kings of Yore who the Lucians seemed to cling to like avenging mythical heroes. There had been wreaths laid at public tombs, and the Prince a familiar fixture and representation of the Lucian stoicism during these periods of public mourning and remembrance. </p>
<p>Now, he stood back helplessly as Regis and Noctis stood before the only tomb either of them cared for. </p>
<p>Aulea’s image had been captured by an artist for the Halls of History shortly after her own coronation as Queen. But the little memorial for her in the royal crypts was not the stiff and formal image of the intimidating woman Nyx had never met. Instead there were photographs pinned together like those in his own apartment. The woman’s bright smile captured when she lived, holding her young son, teasing her husband, caught in candid moments that had already been lost in favour of the stiff and formal images of the official portraits that painted the Queen as some tragic beauty. </p>
<p>Nyx watched as Regis traded out the photos with a smile, soft words to his son muffled in the quiet of the private graveyard. The name “Her Royal Majesty, Aulea Lucis Caelum” nearly covered by the frames affixed to the memorial. He watched as Noctis smiled at the photos being switched away in a ritual Nyx realized he hadn’t even been aware of until Noctis invited him. </p>
<p>The other graves had similar frames, the oldest ones with pieces of keepsakes glinting in the low light. Down the hallway, Nyx could see lockets hanging from ornate hooks and toy swords left leaning against the cold stone walls. There were dolls and toys, favoured possessions and pictures. Small portraits and letters slipped into the frames as Noctis and Regis set their own mementos for their own family. </p>
<p>“She’d be proud of you,” was all Nyx could hear from the muttered conversation as the men turned from the grave. Their ritual of remembrance complete. He caught the playful smile the King— now just a father leaning with his hand on his son’s shoulder— gave him; “She’d be merciless with teasing Sir Ulric though. I may need to do her memory justice.”</p>
<p>“Dad, no.” But there was a more familiar smile to Noctis there, and Nyx offered a low bow in response. </p>
<p>“It’ll be hard to drive me off, Majesty.” </p>
<p>It felt like an oath, sworn before the ghosts of every royal not deemed worthy enough to join the Lucii. </p>
<p>“I expect nothing less,” Regis smiled, his cane tapping an echo in the tomb as he moved ahead. “Now, let’s get out to some sunlight. I expect to hear all about how my son managed to convince you to come to such a morbid tradition.”</p>
<p>“No convincing needed, Majesty,” Nyx squeezed Noctis’ hand in the gloom of the dim hall as they followed. “It’s actually a lot like some Galahd traditions, I think. Pictures and all.”</p>
<p>Regis paused and offered a warm smile— fully the father Nyx almost never saw with the crown weighing down its own mask— before continuing. “Yes, I remember from my visits; I believe the custom is still an exchange of stories? Keep the memories alive for a while longer. We’ll tell you about Noct’s mother over the feast if you’ll share stories of your sister.”</p>
<p>“I would love to.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Inner Child</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When the Citadel was decorated, the festival season officially started. The world seemed to light up around the holiday as it came rushing down on the kingdom that seemed to pride itself on restraint and propriety. Images of toys and gifts were splashed across the many, many advertisement boards, and the tempering memorials to match the darkness of the season seemed to be a distant memory as the colourful strings of lights and garlands were thrown across every balcony, crossway, and plaza in the city. </p>
<p>“This is going here now.”</p>
<p>“Okay.”</p>
<p>Noctis had seemed enthralled by the lights and colours since the start of the season. Nyx had thought it was endearing as the Prince dragged him through the festive shops to watch the window displays light up and the crowds gather around the stalls giving out charitable samples of sweets and drinks. He had watched as Noctis was recognized among the crowd by some eager child here or there until they had managed to burrow deeper into the labyrinthine city. And once securely hidden away in Nyx’s own little corner of the world, Noctis’ mood had managed to brighten further among the inverse festive colours Galahd seemed to have. </p>
<p>They had spent hours across the past few days wandering the outer edges of the city to see the changes. The festival markets and abundance of community comforts had popped up around each district to celebrate the season in different ways. Noctis had dragged him through the less familiar streets from one attraction to the next until their arms were full of small replications of the grander decorations they had just viewed. </p>
<p>Nyx watched Noctis move around his apartment, stringing lights around the kitchen counter and window to brighten the place up. A garland had been draped across the little niche to his bed in place of the makeshift clothesline, drooping down to glitter just within his peripheral as he watched the Crown Prince of Lucis set up a tiny, tabletop tree in front of his window. </p>
<p>The tree was a concession to Lucian tradition, though Nyx still didn’t understand the significance of it. He understood the colours and the lights, but the rest was a blur of strange customs he was not prepared to dive into just yet. </p>
<p>Instead he watched from where he had tucked himself out of the way of Noctis’ decorating to watch the other man work. “Having fun, little star?”</p>
<p>It was like watching a big kid get excited for a night that was still weeks away. There were tiny gifts already tucked beneath the tiny artificial boughs as Noctis attempted to prop everything up together. A little strand of lights had been wrapped around the tree and a tiny imitation of the decorative royal star that seemed to appear across every brightly lit and festive corner of the kingdom was being secured to its peak. “Yup.”</p>
<p>Nyx grinned and raised himself from the bed to fully admire the efforts Noctis had put in. He ducked beneath the garland and grabbed the little decoration taken from his snooping in the Citadel from where he had left it hanging from his shelf, pinned in place with books. Careful not to upset the delicate balance Noctis had achieved with the tree, Nyx tucked the ornament between stiff, plastic branches before wrapping his arms around Noctis. </p>
<p>“Never thought you were the type to like holidays.”</p>
<p>“Only when not in the Citadel.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. New Tradition</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Wait, what do you do then?”</p>
<p>Traditions had evolved over the years. Nyx was certain that the little strings of lights the Lucians were so fond of did not actually start as little lights suspended from precarious wires without burning down the city a few times. Just like the lanterns the Cavaugh clans were so fond of probably didn’t start in the form of tiny charms that could be left hanging from keychains bags for the holiday season. But whatever they had evolved from had to have been new at some point. </p>
<p>Nyx reached over to show Noctis the next steps in the little folds of paper while he ignored the amused looks from the other Glaives who clearly wanted to tease him for even attempting to teach a Lucian this little tradition they shared. The lounge had been empty when they started— when he had started, stealing the supplies from the collective stash of mismatched scraps left by the teams throughout the week— and slowly filled as the day dragged on. Glaives came and went, some newer recruits skittering around the sight of the Crown Prince sitting on one of the uncomfortable benches with the supplies fanned out around him.</p>
<p>The papercraft had been a new addition to the Glaives’ holiday repertoire. Cobbled together between the coastal Cavaugh traditions of sending lanterns out to the sea during festivals to the meticulous folding and knotting crafts of the eastern Galahd, the craft had taken on new life when refugees from now-nameless provinces annexed by the Nifs brought over their own colourful papers and pigments from their own homes. Years ago, the mottled group of broken men and women had found the common thread in a need to craft for the solstice traditions and ended up trading their skills until they had come to the current sight of the Crown Prince of Lucis attempting to tame a stiff paper into the shape he wanted. </p>
<p>Nyx guided him through the next steps, the measured folds he knew by muscle memory at this point. The golden paper moved on command, first with a guiding fold to mark it and then a more forceful fold from the Prince.  </p>
<p>“Close enough,” Nyx grinned as the head of the image took shape first— a clumsy, too-big triangle missing the fanning folds of a familiar crest— then the stunted wings barely peeking from the fat body as Noctis set it down and watched it flop over on mismatched feet. </p>
<p>“I blame his teacher,” Libertus said as he joined their mess of crafts and colours. The man set down the takeaway boxes he had brought with him and took a fresh square of lemon-yellow paper. “Let me show you how its done, Highness. Nyx is useless at this stuff. He could barely manage a boat last year.”</p>
<p>With Libertus’ more boisterous affections filling the room, other Glaives started to chime in. Squares of papers were swiped from the piles spread out around the initial mess, until someone pulled out a stash of more delicate tissue paper that they promised would fold more easily until an argument started about traditions and the structure of the paper itself. </p>
<p>The tradition was, as Noctis understood it, a way to decorate with what they had at hand. Sending paper lanterns out to see or floating from the sheer drop of a Cavaugh cliff to carry wishes and good fortune thousands of kilometres away. It was a makeshift lure knotted into a net in Galahd, to draw in the fish looking for an easy meal when scraps of paper were easier to come by than metal or plastic. The delicate colours a show of extravagance across the territories near Tenebrae, where the stains of berries and powders of flowers and roots and dust were tested on the scraps first before moved to the more important fabrics. </p>
<p>But now there were paper dragons and behemoths, a crimson Zu in flight, a little Carbuncle in teal and topaz. Fish and dragonflies were strung up in the bright windows of the Glaive lounge, joined by dogs, cats, and the odd anak standing taller than the rest. They quickly overtook the other little folded pieces of paper that Glaives had added to the windows in the few minutes between shifts or on lunch, breaks in sparring and courses filled easily with the more traditional solstice wishes scribbled down and folded into a fun shape to catch the sun. </p>
<p>By the time Drautos had left his office and come to check in on what he assumed was chaos, he had found Noctis surrounded by a small flock of colourful paper chocobos. And his Glaives arguing about just how to show off their work as the Zu was clearly more of a solstice bird than a misshapen daggerquill that didn’t even have the right tail. </p>
<p>“This had better not be a habit.” The Captain grumbled, gesturing for Noctis to get up and join him, intending to finally get the Prince in his care back on track with the training that had been delayed by the chaos that seemed to rise in his wake among the Glaives.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Silent Night</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There was a comfort to the noise of the city streets. The way the rumble of traffic merged with the almost symphonic and rhythmic noise of people shouting, talking, and laughing just outside among the bright lights and in time to the beat of the music blaring from every storefront and bar in the little corner Nyx called home. There was a lifelike reminder to the chaos and noise— living and breathing promises of the vast city that housed 90% of the Lucian population. There was a comfort to the way the noise folded in on itself until it was all just a ripple across the night, singing out with all the anonymity the Crown City could afford. </p>
<p>By comparison, the distant quiet of Noctis’ own apartment seemed deafening. </p>
<p>This close to the Citadel plaza, the real telltale signs of life had been lost in the sobriety of the royal shadow. The neon, competing lights and signs drowned by the bright flare of the pulsing magic that rose from the towering Citadel that dominated Noctis’ view. The streets so far below gleamed with the glass and chrome of the elite in a cleanliness that could only be achieved by the bulk of the people who worked and thrived downtown during the daylight hours were ushered home before the sun set and any semblance of nightlife started. </p>
<p>Most of the smaller alleys and streets carried the familiar beat and pulse of life Nyx had come to love about his own chaotic world. But here, high above everything and watching the soft snowfall over the seemingly silent city, he felt like the whole of Eos had fallen away beyond the edge of the balcony. </p>
<p>The sun had set some time ago, though it was still early, and the city had lit up as normal. But the fat, soft flakes of snow drifting down in the first real blizzard of the season for the Citadel core seemed to mute it all until all that was left was the sight of those snowflakes drifting down across the dark. Nyx could still see the familiar cityscape and buildings, but it was hard to focus on anything beyond the mesmerizing snowfall as it drifted from one side to the next with the cold winds funnelled through the tall buildings. </p>
<p>“Anything interesting?”</p>
<p>Noctis’ voice broke the silence that had muffled Nyx’s thoughts. The bright apartment returning to focus as Nyx turned from the window with a smile; “Not as interesting as what’s in here, little star.”</p>
<p>“Right.”</p>
<p>Noctis padded around his apartment as if the world beyond the four solid walls did not exist. Barefoot and shirtless, Noctis moved easily through his quiet little home in just the loose and low slung sweatpants that had likely been pulled from the pile of clothes Nyx knew had seen a washing machine at some point in the last week. He moved from bedroom to kitchen while Nyx pulled himself away from the windows and closed the blinds against the cold of the blizzard and prying eyes of the world that was really far below him right now. </p>
<p>He settled on the sofa to watch as Noctis moved with all the grace of a cat who knew his surroundings would never change. And all the careless grace of that same sort of kitten who tended to forget where his fixed surroundings are.</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“Nothing?”</p>
<p>“You’re staring, hero.”</p>
<p>“Can you blame me?”</p>
<p>Noctis rolled his eyes as he took drinks from the fridge— Gladio’s preferred bottles— and made his way over. “Keep staring and your eyes will get stuck.”</p>
<p>“Stuck on you? Or just in general,” Nyx ignored the offered drink in favour of pulling Noctis to him. He placed a  kiss on exposed abs before tugging his lover down to his level to kiss properly. “Because I could stare at you forever, my little star.”</p>
<p>Beyond the four walls of this apartment with all its amenities and comforts, the world had fallen away. It narrowed to the warm man now pressed against him, teasing him about his own cheesy lines and compliments while never quite pulling away from him enough to stop the affection. His world could narrow down to that sofa, where they could watch the snowfall together, with the empty sky peeking through the blinds as they reclined with drinks and watched the Wall shimmer overhead like an aurora. </p>
<p>Noctis rested easily against him in the quiet of the apartment as the night dragged on. Warm and solid in his arms when the timed lights dimmed and he made the stretch to turn off the nearest lamp. Once dark, even the electric hum of the appliances was easy to ignore in favour of watching the snow move across the sky with Noctis sleeping against him. The glow of the city below did little to dispel the idea that there was nothing but them in the world right now, with the silent night wrapped around them like a blanket.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Candy and Treats</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Nyx had received the summons to one of the Citadel conference rooms just out of reach of the regular patrols and tours, he wasn’t sure what to expect. There had been the usual suspicion that he would be present for some meeting as a means to observe— even weight in, as the King sometimes requested— or as some sort of help to keep Noctis out of trouble. He hadn’t expected the sight that greeted him as he stepped through the heavy gilded doors. </p><p>“What is all this?”</p><p>“Duty and responsibility, apparently.”</p><p>The conference room had been overwhelmed with festive colours and crafting materials. Plates and bowls sat half-empty in lines along the grand conference table with Noctis at the head of the mess. As Nyx moved around the table, he found the plastic bins at the end of what he assumed was an assembly line, nearly overflowing with tiny bags filled with the candies from the bowls on the table. The cartoon images of festive characters told him the rest of what he needed to know; the bags were part of the collections of gifts meant for the guests who would be arriving for the Citadel balls and feasts and various events within the next few days. </p><p>He supposed there were several storage rooms filled with the same sort of storage bins. Some with treats and little gift bags of candy like the ones being assembled here, and others with the larger bags and presents meant to entice The Guard was already running through their drills and assignments around the public areas. Patrol routes and sentry placement would be confirmed in the next few hours, then Nyx would know where the Glaives stood. </p><p>There had been an expectation that most Glaives would be set at the Gates to replace the Guards given the honours of handling the Citadel patrols on the big event nights, but Nyx had yet to get confirmation of any reassignment. </p><p>He stole some pieces of candy from a bowl on his way to Noctis, trying to see what tedious work the Crown Prince of Lucis was hunched over this time. </p><p>The tags were separate from the piles of ribbons he suspected would be secured to the little bags at the other end once everything was finished. </p><p>All that was left was the pile of “Thank You” tags that Noctis was still currently bent over, hand moving quickly in a familiar, formal signature. </p><p>“You need to sign all of those?”</p><p>“Dad has it worst, this is just for the kid thing next week.”</p><p>Nyx settled into one of the seats next to the head of the table, “So you summoned me here to forge your name on these things?”</p><p>Noctis’ smile was worth it, but the Prince indicated the boxes at the other end, waiting to go. “You get to tie the finished tags to the finished bags.”</p><p>“What happened to your helpers?”</p><p>“I gave them a break. Apparently they’ve been at this since before sunrise.”</p><p>“So you swoop in as the hero with the dawn?”</p><p>“I’ll eventually have my own loyal army of Citadel staff, you know.” Another finished tag was set aside with the rest, and Nyx abandoned his treats to drag one of the boxes over. The storage bin, despite being  “I’ll need an equally loyal general to lead them.”</p><p>“I’m not fighting Scientia for a desk job, little star. Give me the Glaive and I’ll be happy.”</p><p>“You’ll have to fight Drautos for them. Probably Luche too.”</p><p>“I can take them.”</p><p>“That would be a true holiday miracle, hero.”</p><p>The tags each had a small hole to poke the ribbon through, and once in the motion of attaching the notes and tying the bags closed, the work went faster. Noctis continued the repetition of signing the little notes from his seemingly endless pile of festive stationary. Pens were exchanged every so often as they worked in efficient silence, with an odd piece of candy being slipped from the bowls by Nyx’s fast hands. Noctis barely looked up from the task for the better part of an hour, until the door opened and six refreshed young men and women entered with a tray of coffee and snacks. </p><p>“He’s here to help,” Noctis said by way of explaining Nyx’s presence as the Glaive tied off another bag in the endless pile.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Weather</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“They’re getting sun in Leide you know.”</p><p>“They always have sun in Leide,” Nyx responded, patting his hands together before huffing warm breath into them. “It’s why it’s Leide. Sun, sand, and a long coastline on two sides.”</p><p>“They get rain this time of year, you know.”</p><p>“That’s what happens when you’re flat and have two major bodies of water on the north and south, little star.” A glance down the covered platform and Nyx glared half-heartedly at the announcements as they scrolled across the news’ screens and timetables and maps set every few metres apart. Beyond the flimsy barrier, the wind had changed and there was now snow threatening to reach beneath the glass walls and decorative awnings of the residential transit line’s more rural stop. “Promise me you’ll fix the train when you’re king?”</p><p>“Dad’s been trying to do that for years, hero. It’s not happening.”</p><p>But even Noctis was now eyeing up the announcements to look for the threat of delay. An active weather map of the line had yet to account for the snow that was currently blanketing the tracks through Prompto’s quaint little neighbourhood. The tracks had only emerged from the safety of the underground levels for a handful of stops, but they both suspected that there would be delays if any part of that exposed portion of the run was covered by the storm that had rolled in from the northern reaches of Insomnia’s island mass. </p><p>“You know what could happen,” Nyx offered, pulling his scarf a fraction higher to keep the wind out; “holidays at Galdin. Take advantage of that sun. I hear they put lights in the palm trees.”</p><p>“There’s Caem, you know.” Noctis tugged his phone out of his pocket, glancing at the time for certainty before the cold winds sapped the battery completely. “Fishing is great this time of year on that coast.”</p><p>“Still too cold.”</p><p>“You can see Ravatogh from the house there.”</p><p>“Little star, you can see Ravatogh from everywhere in Lucis.”</p><p>“Except here.”</p><p>“Except here, because it’s snowing and cold, and I swear the train is late.”</p><p>“We could crash at Prompto’s place if it’s cancelled.”</p><p>“We could get a room at a nice little hotel and plot a seasonal escape to somewhere not frozen.”</p><p>“Just run off in the middle of the holidays to a beach resort? I’m pretty sure I can get dad’s boat if you really want to take off.”</p><p>Nyx grinned at that idea, turning his back to yet another shift in the persistent wind. It left him facing Noctis beneath the halo cast by the bright artificial lights. The sun had set over an hour ago, and it was only half-past six according to the scrolling reassurances of normalcy on the screens around them. Nyx half expected to see frost creeping across the screens any moment. As if Shiva herself had decided to ruin the Lucian transit system for their daring to attempt to keep to a regular schedule. At least here where the houses had been packed together into a corner of the vast city. </p><p>The creeping festive spirit had reached Prompto’s own sleepy neighbourhood weeks before the Citadel acknowledged the season. The lights and garlands had trimmed the lazy streets with a colourful glow the moment the harvest festivities had ended and the reminders that a generous spirit drew in good luck for the next year started. Golds and silvers had greeted them from the same platform earlier that day, when the cool sunlight had been a deceptive brightness to their task of delivering holiday gifts and the New Year’s cards before Noctis was chained to the Citadel for the next month at best. </p><p>But now, with the wind shifting every few minutes to really drive in the reminder that the winter snows had finally settled in, Nyx couldn’t help but imagine a holiday spent away from the dreary city with its false cheer in the face of a blizzard. </p><p>“Tell you what, you get the boat and I figure out the easiest way to get us to Galahd.”</p><p>“Holidays in Galahd?”</p><p>“You’d love it. Fishing, beaches, forests to explore, hot springs…”</p><p>“Don’t tempt me.”</p><p>“We can run off and no one would suspect a thing until we got back in the spring.”</p><p>“Bonfires on the beach?”</p><p>“Got to cook the fish you catch somehow.”</p><p>“And you’d probably have all the drinks ready.”</p><p>“Of course.” Nyx grinned, already picturing how the getaway could go. There were plenty of private coves he could remember rowing to during his own youthful misadventures. There were plenty of old cabins that had stood the test of time out in the woods around those coves. Even havens and the old hum of Solheim ruins to keep things interesting. And if they got tired of trying to survive in the rough of it all, he knew his staunchest ally in Galahd would love to host them— his mother always did go on about how he needed to visit more. “Nothing but the best to go with whatever you catch. We could even head out to some havens I’m sure are still out there. Get properly away from all of this.”</p><p>“You make it sound so good.”</p><p>“Run away with me, little star.”</p><p>Before any answer could be given— sarcastic, wishful, or a refusal as it may be— the lights of the train glared through the blizzard and the train slowed to a screech at the platform as it stopped on the cold tracks. Warm air rushed from the doors as they opened along the platform edges and the friendly automated warning to board with caution echoed along the empty platform. </p><p>It was a rush to the near empty car and the seats directly above one of the heaters thawing out the passengers within. But as they settled and started moving back toward the chaotic heart of the city, Noctis leaned a cold-red cheek against Nyx’s shoulder with a smile. </p><p>“Let me think about it, hero.”</p><p>“Offer’s on the table, little star.”</p>
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<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Hibernation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The winter days were short. </p><p>Despite the tall, arching windows of the Citadel, Noctis didn’t think he had seen any actual sunlight in three days with the schedule that had been forced on him. He missed the carefree days of summer already, when the festivals were all late in the day and he could spend the morning lounging in the warmth and light. Even if it was just from his balcony. </p><p>But the winter meant that he was needed at the Citadel. </p><p>He needed to review the charities for the next year and the breakdown of events that were still to be scheduled well into spring. There were meetings to attend as he waded through requests for charitable considerations and sponsorships that begged for his name to draw in the needed funding for the next year. There were planning sessions to attend for the more immediate events— balls and festive dinners he was expected to host, gifting affairs of state that would benefit the image of the Crown at best and hold off the criticisms for a few weeks at least— and then the actual events themselves. </p><p>He had been walked through the security steps and measures until he knew every guard who was going to be at the next event and where they would be standing. He had literally been walked through the halls of the Citadel with some event planner or another while Iggy acted as his handler and told exactly how he was expected to stand next to the throne and when, and how we was expected to greet venerated guests from various noble families and delegates. And how he was to present them gifts just for showing up on his doorstep. </p><p>The only consolation was that he had been through these planning sessions with his dad at the same time. They had both stood at instructed, sat as instructed, until his royal father rolled his eyes and started to find a much more amusing distraction from the plans and events in asking after Nyx, and training, and literally anything else while they were finally in the same room for a few minutes. </p><p>Noctis was pretty sure the days off they had been granted were more to save the sanity of their handlers than their own by the end of it. </p><p>No Caelum was co-operative when they were bored. </p><p>“You getting up anytime soon?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>Days off meant sleep. And while Noctis missed seeing the sunlight after long hours spent in the Citadel, the comforts of his apartment at least meant he could sleep on a couch with the blinds open and see the clear winter skies that way. If he had managed to wrangle Nyx into the hibernation with him, that was just an added bonus. And pillow. </p><p>“Noct,” Nyx said, hand smoothing over Noctis’ back as if to ease him to the waking world; “I appreciate that you’ve been busy—”</p><p>Noctis allowed himself a soft hum in response, shifted enough beneath the cozy blanket dragged from his bed to help with the process of draping himself over his now-trapped boyfriend. </p><p>“—And that you want to sleep all day—”</p><p>“All winter.”</p><p>“All winter,” Nyx amended; “But I really need to get up.”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“This isn’t negotiable, little star.” Noctis smiled as he felt the familiar kiss to the top of his head as Nyx eased the stern tone he was attempting to use in the situation. “I need the washroom, and we need to eat something.”</p><p>“Not moving.”</p><p>“I will move you.”</p><p>“That’s treason.”</p><p>“Is it treason if I make you some lunch?”</p><p>Noctis cracked an eye open at that, moving just enough to judge the sincerity of the offer; “What kind of lunch?”</p><p>“Something big that will keep you full and happy for the rest of your weekend off so you can hibernate.”</p><p>Reluctantly, Noctis sat up with a sigh, blanket bunching around his waist as he stretched and Nyx made his run for freedom from the sofa. Outside, the Crown City gleamed in the winter sunlight, the air around the window unaffected by the heater as the wind beat against the building despite the clear skies and bright sun. The world beyond the apartment was busy and living, and Noctis decided that he wanted no part of it. </p><p>With Nyx making his bolt for freedom, Noctis resettled on the sofa beneath his blanket and started to doze in the comfort of the familiar scent of Nyx and himself mingling on the pillows they had been using. It wasn’t long before Nyx was prodding at the lump beneath the blanket in the attempt to get Noctis to wake up long enough to eat something.</p>
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<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Silver and Gold</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The lights of the city were a multicoloured smear across the cloudy night sky when Nyx looked up. Even from the silver glow of the haven tucked into one stretch of forested parkland, there was no doubting that the expanse of city was only a few hours away. The dominant shimmer of the Wall out near the shadow of the fortifications— where you could start to see the arch of the magical barrier as the ancient structure of defence around the city towered above the trees— was dulled by the golden glow of the city. </p><p>“When I said I wanted to get away for a while,” Noctis said, prodding at their campfire with a stick salvaged from the kindling they had gathered before the sun set; “I was thinking out of the city for a trip. Like we talked about.”</p><p>“I know,” Nyx muttered, watching the breeze carry the embers just a little bit higher than expected above their circle of warmth against the winter chill. The snow had yet to fully settle this close to the Leide border. They had left the thoroughfare only a few turn-offs before the Western Gate, moving south along the stretch of cliffs that tended to swallow most of the brick and mortar physical fortifications to the protected green space with its cryptic names. “But do you have any idea how much paper work there is to get you out of the city?”</p><p>“Very funny.”</p><p>“Seriously, I put in the request for summer already.”</p><p>“Where are you taking me in summer?”</p><p>“That’s a surprise.”</p><p>The silver starlight of the haven pulsed in the night despite the lack of daemons to drive away. The mystic patterns divined by some ancient Oracle centuries ago to do the work she had an innate talent for had barely faded over time. Even the fire beat with the same magic heartbeat that reminded Nyx of long summer nights in Galahd. Nights where he had traced those same patterns and designs in a far more wild forest and listened for the telltale sounds of some fiend clawing its way through the darkness. </p><p>“You know I can look through any request you put in.”</p><p>“That would ruin the surprise.”</p><p>He could pretend that the distant roar of the city was some undefeated beast. But Nyx had actually heard real daemons. He had seem them rise from the stalemate of a battleground and cause havoc equally among the Lucian ranks and the Nif ranks, the creatures uncaring for borders and older feuds. It was almost a comfort to see the golden smear across the sky in tandem with the strange noises rising from the not-too-distant traffic. </p><p>Nyx held his hand out to Noctis to entice him in for a cuddle. To settle on the stone plateau warmed by the fire to watch the food cook in its little foil parcels. </p><p>“Come on, little star.” It was only a night. The only one they could steal together this close to the main events of the season without inviting the wrath of the Citadel down on them with its schedules and constant reminders of the royal duties. “Just relax.”</p><p>Noctis sighed and moved. Stick abandoned to the fire as he made his way closer to Nyx and leaned in. For at least one night, they could pretend that they weren’t within the city walls or under the shadow of the rigid royal expectations.</p>
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<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Old Traditions</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The ball was an old tradition. Ancient, as far as anyone could tell. </p><p>The Heir Apparent could select as many or as few charities as they pleased to lend their name to throughout the year, but the Children’s Ball would always be a staple of the Citadel festivities. It was the event of the season for most, and the nightmare of logistics for others. The army of Citadel staff had been scrambling for weeks for the decorations and the invitations alone, not to mention the fear of the gods the kitchens threatened everyone with if their budget was not approved for the catering of the event. </p><p>Nyx knew of at least three orphanages and two children’s hospitals that were due to arrive any moment. </p><p>“You’re going to be fine. You’ve been doing this for years.”</p><p>“Not with you.”</p><p>“No, that’s how I know you’ll be fine,” Nyx offered a smile. “You managed this before, now you got me backing you up.”</p><p>The look of utter exasperation was worth it, as it meant that Noctis was not thinking about every little detail that had been drilled into him during the last few weeks. There would be a dinner first, speeches from the throne next— the King’s welcome, the Prince’s thanks— and then the ball itself. Nearly two hundred little ragamuffin kids who might have never even set foot in the Citadel would be guided to the grand ballroom where Noctis would formally (and more importantly, publicly) invite them for the real party. </p><p>All of the steps were set in stone. The etchings of tradition stretching back at least six hundred years if the papers and newscasts were to be believed. Noctis alone claiming ten of those years, as the invitations would go out in his name until he could make his own carefully crafted speeches at the age of ten. Even the dinner was a traditional fare.</p><p>Nyx had spent the last two days being lectured and guided through his role in the whole thing. </p><p>The “Royal Date” as Ignis called him with no small look of amusement, had a highly ceremonial role in the whole thing. Which was why there had been so few official ‘paramours’ to fill the role in the last few generations. </p><p>“You don’t even know what you’re supposed to do, hero.”</p><p>“Of course I know what I’m supposed to do, Scientia threatened to chop my balls off if I messed this up.”</p><p>“And?”</p><p>“Still in one piece so far.”</p><p>Noctis did smile at that before he squared his shoulders and glanced into the crowded gallery room where— for the night— the King would step from his throne and let the Heir Apparent take his place a ruler of the next generation. The proverbial changing of the guards as Noctis assumed the responsibility of caring for the most vulnerable among the citizens, and ensuring he met them with the kindness expected in his own rule. One day. </p><p>It was a solstice tradition. Though it no longer fell on the solstice. </p><p>Nyx had watched it with the mild interest of a guard on duty for years. Now, he looked down at the box in his hands with a feeling of dread creeping in and wondered if he would somehow manage  to mess the whole ceremony up. </p><p>It was usually the King himself to fit the crown to his successor as the throne was relinquished. A slip of gold that would signal the lost sun just as much as the overabundance of lights was meant to entice it back into being. A crown entrusted to the one person above everyone else whom the Crown Prince trusted to help his own rule go smoothly. </p><p>“Feels like a marriage proposal,” Nyx muttered as the roar of chattering children was heard behind the heavy doors where they waited. </p><p>“Maybe it is,” Noctis answered.</p>
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<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Snow and Ice</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The season started with skating rinks around the city. Raised in every community in every district by the multitude of community leaders, elected officials, and neighbourhood patrons looking to gain favour for the new year. As the days grew shorter across the kingdom and the snows settled in against the emptying streets, the rinks went up with all the fanfare expected in the communities that needed them most. </p><p>The ones out in parks and unused festival grounds were joined with pillars wrapped in strings of lights and garlands, the scratched ice shimmering in a thousand different colours as children laughed and screamed their way across the imperfections. The rinks inside the arenas and community centres were decorated in garlands and moving lights projected from steel rafters while music echoed down the busy, rubber floored halls with the constant cacophony of chatter and laughter. </p><p>Nyx was used to both types of the rinks— the community centre in his own neighbourhood a popular haunt for the local Glaives and their families, famed for the decent-if-cheap hot chocolates Crowe tended to drag them out for at the first hint of a crisp winter morning— but he preferred the intimate ones out in the quiet parks scattered throughout the city. Those were the ones that, late enough in the year, people tended to abandon in favour of the warmer indoor events and the larger, brighter rinks that made more of a spectacle. </p><p>“I can just picture the headlines,” Noctis said, stepping out to the scarred and uneven ice with the sure footing of a seasoned skater; “Hero of the Kingsglaive Murdered by Crown Prince’s Chief Adviser for Skating Ring Mishap.”</p><p>Nyx was already on the ice, speeding through circuits in the little corner he had claimed while Noctis tied his skates and eyed the few families and friends who had started in the slow, lazy circles of the relaxed winter outing. Rather than risk stopping properly with an abrupt turn of his blades on the imperfect ice, Nyx grinned and stopped himself with the surprisingly solid barrier of wood that had been erected overnight. His hands tangled in the fairy lights and garland that had been secured around the edge of the barrier to add to the light, and he took a moment to shake them off and reset them on their precarious perch.</p><p>“That’s too long for a headline, Highness. It’s more likely to be Royal Shield Let’s Crown Prince Break Arm.”</p><p>“I heard that,” Gladio waved from the bench he had settled at in the windbreak that had been built for the observers. His own skates set aside while he sipped from a hefty thermos and read by the floodlights of the park that had been turned to glare across the ice for the evening visitors. “If I go down, I’m taking you with me, Ulric.”</p><p>“Duly noted, Sir Amicitia.”</p><p>Noctis didn’t bother to hide the roll of his eyes as he tested the unfamiliar rink. Arms instinctively straightened as he eyes up every visible bump and scuff that could trip him up before he relaxed into the first tentative movements as a real test of the ice. </p><p>It was nothing like the rinks in the downtown core of the city. The professional, even surfaces that were maintained for the masses of Lucians looking to play between their sessions of shopping for the holiday. The lights of the city and light shows of the evenings would have exposed every imperfection on those rinks. They were smoothed and reworked to a perfect mirror as often as possible between timed sessions in the attempt to recreate the perfection of the magically created “pond” in the Citadel Plaza. </p><p>But the perfection of those surfaces with their bright lights and popular draw never seemed to have this quiet intimacy of slow, easy circuits. The only music available wasn’t blaring from overhead or professional systems, but from a phone in one corner, while a young lady practised some routine Nyx could never hope to follow while an older woman nodded in time with every touch of the pointed blade to the scarred surface. And further down, out of the way, a group of three young men and three young women tapped hockey sticks against the cold surface and ran familiar drills the width of the rink, deftly avoiding the lazy skaters keeping a steady flow clockwise along the barrier. Couples were noticeable among them, heads bowed together, lingering at the doorways with easy smiles and teasing looks as they exchanged glances and touches in the soft light. </p><p>And the perfect image of the busy downtown event rinks never received the same soft snows drifting down on the evening breeze. </p><p>Nyx looked up with a grin and adjusted his mittens, before offering his hand out to Noctis to join the flow of couples out for similar dates.</p>
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<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Gifts</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Gift giving was not limited to holidays in Galahd. It was more prominent among the holidays, but that was because there were more people around during the festive season. There were friends and visits, families staying for weeks to help with everything from traditional ceremonies to other events that came up around the same time. Nyx remembered the feeling of a bustling house filled with his own small family, and more than half the town stopping in to greet them and take advantage of the Ulric taste for hospitality. </p><p>“What do you even get someone like that?” Libertus asked, looking through his phone at lists that corresponded with the trash-tv headlines scrolling across the screens around them. It was the season for “Top Ten Popular Gifts” and “What to get that person who has everything” commentary to make the rounds. Top listings for new technology, things the Crown Prince has been seen with or glancing at— rumours circulating through the Citadel as the Lucian tradition of giving everyone a gift started to settle in with the blanket of snow— on his excursions out through the kingdom. </p><p>Gifting was a Lucian tradition. Every holiday had some new gift to offer up with bows and ribbons and all the fanfare of the society that had seemed to build itself on the idea of a fair trade was necessary to celebration. </p><p>As they walked through the streets, Nyx paused at the odd window and shop, glancing through the elaborate and extravagant wares. “I have no idea.”</p><p>“He could basically just buy you.”</p><p>“Libs—”</p><p>“Not that he would,” his friend smirks though, as another headline for a cheap list of popular gifts gained another click. “But that’s because he already owns you.”</p><p>“You’re an ass, Libs,” Nyx stopped at a shop selling novelties— the strange collection of eclectic mixes and afterthought gifts a beacon in the afternoon haze of growing anxiety— like brightly painted teapots and frames made specifically for pictures of pets. There were dolls and poppets strung up with the Lucian festive colours, and gift baskets of souvenirs that one might take home after a trip to the beating heart of the city. “Noct says he likes tea…”</p><p>“Everyone likes tea.”</p><p>“Not everyone.” Nyx gave in and fished out his own phone, scrolling through the far too short texts from his boyfriend on the terrifying prospect he now found himself in. “Maybe something from one of the edges of a district? A little different?”</p><p>“That’s your big plan, hero? Impress the King of Lucis with something cheap from home? You know everything they sell here is cheap. And the king probably ain’t even going to think twice about it. Why do you need to get him anything anyway?”</p><p>“Tradition, mostly.”</p><p>“So go traditional.” Libertus grumbled and tucked his phone away as an excuse to shove his cold hands into his pockets. “What the hell is a traditional Lucis gift anyway? Your ma would just say make a cake or something for the dinner.”</p><p>“I can’t bring a cake to that dinner, you idiot.”</p><p>“Why not? The King doesn’t eat?”</p><p>“It’s—” Nyx huffed, resuming his stalk down the busy streets and no longer sparing a second glance at the windows filled to the brim with ideas for the gifts that would reflect the season. “What the hell do you get to impress your boyfriend’s father? Without looking like an inconsiderate moron? And your boyfriend’s dad has the power to have you executed for treason because you let slip you’re sleeping with his son?”</p><p>Libertus’ heavy hand on his should brought him back to the more familiar comfort of reality; “That’s easy.”</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“I wouldn’t be in that position.”</p><p>“You’re terrible at this.”</p><p>“Come on, I’ll buy you a drink.”</p>
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<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Scarves and Hats</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The scarf had been in his possession for years. It wasn’t anything fancy or even well-made. It was just a scarf that did its job by keeping the winter chill from creeping down his neck. Noctis grabbed it on instinct whenever they left the apartment together now. Nyx had to admit that it was soft, and warm, if a little plain for a Prince. </p><p>But the soft, dishevelled grey suited Noctis in an unassuming, unexpected sort of way. </p><p>It made him look normal, bundled as he was with a sweet and steaming apple cider held between gloved hands as he waited on the steps of the Kingsglaive Headquarters, his Shield near at hand talking about something as they waited. Nyx couldn’t hear them, but he could see the way Noctis dipped his chin into the folds of the scarf as a blush crept across his cheeks and nose. The wind moved through his hair and Nyx took a moment to just appreciate the absolute normalcy of the way Noctis looked. </p><p>His lips were red from the heat of his drink— it had to be cider as the stand that sold fresh batches was just a few metres away in the busy plaza nestled beneath a skeletal tree— and his cheeks from the cold and blush. His gloves were a fresh dark material, new for the year, Nyx supposed. His coat the latest in a long line of fashion just freshly advertised on the many screens and posters moving through the city. The Prince’s shoes were the only thing that appeared to be well worn as even his jeans had that fresh dark colouring that suggested something new.</p><p>Everything about Noctis screamed luxury sometimes. Trendy and aware of how he was presented to the public even when just out in the city with a drink and waiting. </p><p>Everything except for that scarf. </p><p>Nyx smiled at the contrast and shrugged on the heavy uniform coat he would have left behind if the weather was warmer. The noise of his boots lost amid the traffic in and out of the main entrance and plaza and busy intersections that separated the Glaives from the Founder’s Square. But Noctis saw him coming anyway, and smiled up at him like a ray of sunshine breaking through the grey winter clouds. </p><p>“Could you be any more obvious?” Gladio teased as he straightened and patted Noctis’ shoulder.</p><p>“Shut up,” Noctis muttered as the blush returned. “Go do your thing.”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah. He’s all yours, Ulric.”</p><p>Nyx smiled at the little scowl from Noctis at Gladio’s back as the Shield headed off into the busy crowds. As Gladio disappeared into the anonymity they had all valued in the city, Noctis muttered; “As if he’s not the biggest romantic there is in Lucis.”</p><p>“Is he?” Nyx pulled Noctis up with a smile; “Because I just booked the next three weeks off, and I was hoping to be romantic at you.”</p><p>“At me?”</p><p>“You can participate if you want to.”</p><p>“Love that you think of everything, hero.”</p><p>“Almost everything.”</p><p>The hat had been folded in his coat pocket for days at this point, a crumpled mass of soft fabric that he would have forgotten about had he been carrying it for anyone else. But for Noctis, he had been searching for it on his few hours left wandering the city between shifts on the Gates. He held it up first to Noctis’ scarf to make sure the dull grey was a suitable match, and then pulled the hat over Noctis’ hair. </p><p>“What the hell?”</p><p>“You needed a hat to go with this scarf.”</p>
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<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Hobbies</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Nyx never felt so much like a rodent scurrying from the critical, assessing eye of a predatory daggerquill as when Ignis Scientia was watching him. </p><p>The man was relentless in his judgement without ever speaking a word. Nyx felt inadequate under that cold, calculating gaze— no longer a rodent fit for a meal, and that seemed so much worse somehow. It had taken weeks (and several sparring sessions) for the Prince’s Royal Shield to warm up to him, but Nyx wondered if Noctis’ oldest friend ever would.</p><p>“Problem, Scientia?”</p><p>For every leap forward in that wary little dance of progression into acceptance in Noctis’ inner circle, Nyx felt like he stumbled back several miles with Ignis. He had wondered if the young man was wholly incapable of expressing any emotion that wasn’t disapproval until he saw the quiet warmth of his interactions with Gladio and Prompto. The long-suffering acceptance that Noctis’ choice of company were his own. </p><p>It reminded him of Libertus. That wary acknowledgement that life came with changes and new people stumbling into it. Only Libertus had more or less accepted Noctis into the family when the Prince proved willing to take a few hits to his pride and learn. </p><p>Ignis, however, seemed unwilling to accept that Nyx might possibly be good enough to be in his position now. </p><p>“None, Ulric.”</p><p>Noctis was off with Prompto; vanished into the crowd of a gaming store with Gladio the hulking, intimidating shadow at their backs to ease their way through the long lines waiting for some new release. It left Nyx outside the chaos, already exhausted just watching the madness through the large shop windows decorated for the season with colourful sales notices and flyers open and readable to show off the next week’s deals. It was like a thousand other stores they had been to recently, but Noctis was unwilling to pull rank and skip the lines or the fuss altogether as he waited in line after line for confirmation that the seasonal rush to meet quotas and deadlines hadn’t claimed a pre-order already shipped to a different store than intended. </p><p>“However,” they had opted to remain outside of the store, minding the influx of bags carrying holiday deals purchased throughout the day spent trailing after Noctis and the far more excitable Prompto; “I do need to understand one thing.”</p><p>“Yeah? What’s that?”</p><p>“What hobbies do you have?”</p><p>The question was unexpected. It threw him into a confused silence for a moment while he scrambled to catch back up. “I thought you’d know every thing about me by now, Ignis.”</p><p>“Professionally, I do.” Ignis’ attention had turned back to the store crowded with shoppers and a disorganized line manage by too few clerks. “But Noct seems intent on keeping you around-”</p><p>“That’s good to hear.”</p><p>“-so the professional distance seems less and less likely to manage given the holidays.”</p><p>Nyx grinned at that. “Are you trying to ask what I want as a gift?”</p><p>“Not at all. In the interest of Noct—”</p><p>“You’re allowed to admit it, you know.”</p><p>Years seemed to be shrugged off in an exasperation that Nyx didn’t know was possible. The slump of Ignis’ shoulders and the undignified glare at the bags by his feet made the younger man actually seem his age in the busy, festive mall with its incessant renditions of pop holiday songs drowned out by the cheerful conversations floating from person to person. He seemed like a young man pouting that there was no way to keep a steadfast barrier between them now, like the buffer that was Noctis was more of a formality swept aside by one admission. </p><p>Ignis Scientia, the last member of Noctis’ little retinue and the most protective of his Prince, intended to view Nyx’s presence in the holiday with more than just professional courtesy. </p><p>“Fine. I would like to get you a gift for the season.” Nyx resisted the urge to laugh at the tiny pout and blush, and Ignis knew it. “What would you like?”</p><p>“Honestly, Specs?”</p><p>There was an annoyed twitch at the use of the familiar nickname; “Honestly.”</p><p>“A quiet night in with Noctis somewhere he likes.”</p><p>“That’s hardly something you’ve gone without.”</p><p>“Nope. But it’s a good time. Might cook him dinner.”</p><p>Something softened in Ignis at that, and Nyx barely caught it before attention was turned to Noctis and Prompto leaving the shop in victory. “That can be arranged.”</p>
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<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Changing Landscape</h2></a>
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    <p>Years ago, Nyx would have never thought to have seen half of what he now thought of as normal. He had never thought to be in a city like Insomnia, where he could lean over the patio of his favourite restaurant and see the bare train tracks emerging from the underground maze that was Lucian mass transit still several storeys below. Or looking up from the same spot and barely seeing the sky for the buildings towering overhead. He had never expected to actually see the grand city when he was growing up in a place that seemed to have more chocobos than people. </p><p>He never would have though to be where he was now—  back in uniform after being granted an extended leave for the holidays— watching the world speed past as Noctis leaned against him in the back of the car deemed a necessary evil borrowed from the royal fleet for this sudden event. Not that it was really an unexpected event— the season was inundated with formal speeches and greetings, the sudden diplomacies that had them speeding from one end of the city to the next— but it had been pushed back so often that Nyx had forgotten it was even a thing. </p><p>“Sorry about this,” Noctis muttered, eyes closed as he leaned close and ignored the streaks of neon lights flaring from the signs they passed. “Completely forgot until Iggy reminded me.”</p><p>The party was meant to be intimate, and hosted by the delegate from Altissia who had insisted on staying in the little seaside luxury apartment afforded his political position. It wasn’t a necessity for Noctis to attend, but it was a gesture of goodwill as the King had been pulled away to attend another event with far less friendlier delegations that would require the finesse of a practised diplomat. But it was still work, when Nyx had anticipated a quiet few weeks away from the uniform, and Noctis felt guilty over the disruption. </p><p>“We’ll be in and out before you know it, little star.”</p><p>“And there’s free food.”</p><p>“That too.” Nyx moved enough to keep Noctis from rumpling his suit too much in the small space. The Altissian cut less forgiving than the less fitted lines of a Lucian standard. Nyx had learnt the difference quickly enough in the Citadel, but he also knew that Noctis preferred neither royal uniform if he could help it. The symbols and trapping of his royalty were all safely tucked away for a last minute adjustment on arrival, where Ignis would go over the details of the Prince’s decorations to ensure he looked presentable for a public appearance. “It’s not long.”</p><p>“No, but the trip is.”</p><p>They had already been on the road for three hours as they crossed the busy city preparing for the holidays. The sun was starting to dip behind the clouds threatening rain along the southern Wall and districts, where the winter winds had only started to lick at the northern tips of the area properly. The changing landscapes of the city a reminder of just how big the place could be even when travelling in the comforts of a royal car. Nyx knew that the rain would be drenching the streets by the time they even reached the residential estates where the delegates called home. He supposed it would be suitable for a little corner of mock-Altissia to be doused over the holidays. </p><p>The lights changed from the crisp cool silvers of Lucis to the warm golds more expected of the Altissian residential areas. The familiar bright screens that dominated most of Insomnia fell away for the benchmark of elegance expected of a transplanted corner of Accordo. The buildings changed from the stark and simple lines Nyx was used to, to the more elaborate curls and narrow alleys that made the pedestrian walkways of his own home district seem like the industrial castoffs they may have once been. The curl of the road brought them down into the depths of the residential heart of the diplomatic centre. </p><p>“You ready for this?”</p><p>“If I say no, can we turn around?”</p><p>Nyx smiled and glanced up through the windows as the clouds opened up and the city looked less and less like Lucis and more like Altissia. “Pretty sure turning around will need a boat. And a royal pardon to keep Scientia from killing me.”</p>
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<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Family</h2></a>
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    <p>Nyx liked to think that he knew his way around the Citadel. </p><p>He knew the nooks and crannies where the staff disappeared and reappeared, and the little side rooms with their strange escapes to other hidden corridors. On patrols, he knew every step and doorway, and every security code that would lock the place down in the event of the slightest threat to the King. There were stairways and elevators buried behind the ornate panels in conference rooms and seemingly dead ends of ballrooms. The corridor crossroads barely hinting at the real secrets that webbed through the ancient stone walls. </p><p>Every little hidden mechanism and corner were ingrained in his mind from countless hours walking the halls with the intent on preventing those hidden passages from being exploited by those who shouldn’t be there. And right now, walking down the familiar halls with a wrapped box in his hands, he wished he could use any of the hidden passages within the labyrinthine palace to disappear. It would be easy to just run. To slip between the walls and defect to Niflheim or something. Run back home to Galahd and pretend he never got himself into this mess. </p><p>Instead— while his mind conjured elaborate fantasies of escape out to the anonymity of a hunter’s life in the wilderness, picking up bounties here and there until he could settle somewhere in the overgrown towns that dotted the Cleigne forests until he could endear himself to the life of a tipster secluded behind some bar somewhere no one from the Crown City could think of looking— he kept on the familiar walk to the private elevator that already required three security codes to get to. He tapped in his clearance and gave a haughty wave to the security camera on instinct, knowing that Pelna was likely on duty there with one of the Crownsguard.</p><p>His feet took him through the warmer, more familiar hallways of the royal apartments. The sounds were muted; his boots softer on the carpeted floors with their pristine but well-worn patterns, the walls not dominated by the high arched windows adorned with portraits and family images and landscapes— Caem and its lighthouse one of the more prominent images. The hallways widened from the narrow passages that crossed the Citadel below, opening to sitting rooms and lounge areas, where bookshelves and tasteful displays meant to amuse guests to the royal family were in a greater demand. Doors were open up here, where the stiff formalities of the royal residence were shed for the intimacies of the family. </p><p>Clarus’ booming laugh echoed down to Nyx as he s clutched the package in his hands closer. He didn’t know if he could face the Shield in this humiliation. </p><p>The gift wrap rumpled and he hastily smoothed it over as he approached the source of the sound. </p><p>“About time,” Noctis was grinning. Truly grinning as he sat perched on the edge of the heavy desk that dominated the study. His feet hang above the floor, and his hands remained folded in his lap, as if it was a normal thing to sit on the King’s desk rather than in one of the many chairs that filled the empty space in the room. </p><p>Nyx wondered if Noctis would escape with him. The Prince seemed like the sort to be willing to run off and live the life of a hunter out in the big, wide, world. Even if it just meant fishing for a living, he thought Noctis wouldn’t mind joining him on his escape from the amused looks and the crushing sense of propriety. </p><p>His body bowed out of years of self-preservation instincts, the rumpled box in his hands inching toward the realm of disastrous early revelations of gifts. “Majesty, Highness.”</p><p>It was Clarus who nudged Noctis hard enough to nearly dislodge the Crown Prince of Lucis from his perch atop the King’s desk. “Keep this one, his first instinct is formality.”</p><p>“Not if you ask Drautos,” Noctis was still grinning feet a lazy rhythm against the priceless desk as Nyx imagined him perched the same way on a barstool somewhere where the Citadel would never find them. “Nyx, stop being weird.”</p><p>Regis’ chuckle, as soft as it was, could have filled the room; “Ulric, I assure you, you’re allowed to breath.”</p><p>The reality of the world came crashing down to the here and now— the King disappeared in favour of the amused father with a kind smile now standing from behind the great desk that seemed smaller than it did a minute ago. The imposing stature of the private library now filled with photos of a young Noctis, a young Regis, images and souvenirs more than books. And Nyx blushed at ever having thought otherwise. He had been in Regis’ presence before, of course. Many times. He had weathered the King’s expectations no matter the weight they carried before. </p><p>Only never with a gift in his hands now on offer with it’s shiny paper and ridiculous bow. “I, uh… It’s a tradition to bring a gift in Lucis, so I thought…”</p><p>“You thought right,” Clarus was the one to take the little box with his own infectious smile; “I’ll add it to the pile Reggie already prepared for you four.”</p><p>“Four?”</p><p>“Just waiting on Gladio and Iris,” Noctis explained. “Family dinner.”</p><p>A family dinner. The words dislodged some deep seated fear Nyx’s mind and reminded him of his purpose in the Citadel. Family dinner at Noctis’ invitation. </p><p>It wasn’t long before the others did arrive; Gladio bundled up and carrying a small pile of gifts in his arms as Iris bounded through the royal apartments to hug her father and the King in a more vibrant greeting. They had moved from the study to the lounge, where the more intimate dining room shared only by the royal family and their closest guests was still hidden behind a door though Nyx could hear the familiar sounds of a table being set and smell the wonders that waited for them. By this point, he had been roped into adjusting the decorations, reassured that he was allowed to stand on the furniture to adjust the garlands that had been draped across the tall windows. He reached for familiar decorations he had examined in closer detail out of the storage room, grinning as he started to coo over the cute photos of Noctis standing proudly with toy fish and in decorated festive outfits. </p><p>Presents had been piled up along a dormant fireplace, Noctis lifted easily from his curiosity by two Royal Shields who assured him that snooping was unnecessary as there were no presents for him in the pile.</p><p>When they were called to dinner, Noctis had already settled himself next to the door opposite his father to direct Nyx to the worst of the faltering decorations that needed to be fixed. </p><p>By the time they had settled in the stiff seats along the stretch of royal family dinner table, Nyx was thinking of his home in Galahd, and how much his mother would have loved meeting this new family that had taken him in with all the fervour and love and acceptance he had never thought existed so close to the throne.</p>
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<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Friends</h2></a>
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    <p>There were three little words that could send any of them into a stunned silence. Three words that seemed to illuminate the entire world and, when uttered by Ignis as they were over a casual coffee in the Founder’s Plaza beneath the steely gaze of the Founder King’s effigy, seemed to be all the more important. </p><p>“I like him.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>Three little words that had them in a mockery off shocked faces; Noctis’ wide eyes and Gladio paused with his steaming drink halfway to his lips. And Prompto’s more exaggerated reactions that had Ignis rolling his eyes despite the fond smile he allowed in response.</p><p>“Did Iggy just admit to liking Nyx?”</p><p>“You feeling okay, Specs?”</p><p>The sigh was expected, just as much as the little huff of hot air that hung before Ignis as he debated ignoring the jibes. The city’s chaos had slowed as the season dragged on and the festivities moved from the hazy rush to purchase gifts to the excitement as fairs and festivals hit their stride around town. There was a palatable excitement in the air a news stations turned to countdowns and information, and the images of both King Regis and Prince Noctis enjoying official holiday events were broadcast through the kingdom.</p><p>However, the most prevalent image was that of Noctis with Nyx at various functions. </p><p>“I feel perfectly fine,” Ignis said as the familiar screens cycled through familiar images of Nyx in his ceremonial uniform at Noctis’ side through the parties and events. </p><p>The images had easily strayed from the formal portraits normally seen throughout the season; the more candid pictures had raised an interest in the Crown Prince’s choice of companions through the long hours of charity events and festive messages. Nyx stooped to whisper something to the smiling Prince, Nyx subtly shielding Noctis from persistent cameras with his own winning smile, Nyx bowed before the throne in the most heated image of the season as Noctis accepted the crown for the duration of his charity event. Rumours had been bad enough before, now the city was ablaze with the talk that Nyx might just be a permanent fixture in the royal family.</p><p>Ignis sipped at his coffee in the effort to ignore the looks of amusement that his belated approval had earned him. </p><p>“Leave Specs alone,” Noctis said as he smiled at the newest onslaught of pictures flitted across the screens. “Admitting that I made a good choice is hard for him.”</p><p>“You make plenty of good choices, Noct,” Ignis defended Noctis against the statement; “though I will admit that Ulric is a surprising choice.”</p><p>“You just said that you like him.”</p><p>“In a way that means I will not be outright hostile for the foreseeable future.”</p><p>Prompto offered a whistle and a grin, tossing his empty mug into the nearest bin before fishing his camera out and moving to start searching for lighting and angles. “That’s the highest praise right there. I think I got open hostility until we were eighteen, Noct.”</p><p>“At least you didn’t have to deal with his access to weapons,” Gladio muttered, giving Ignis a light shove with his shoulder. “Remember when you thought I was bullying the brat?”</p><p>“You were bullying, Noct,” Ignis huffed, then indicated the group of Glaives in plain clothes crossing the plaza across from their little loitering spot. “Ah, a distraction approaches.”</p><p>Noctis was on his feet the moment the Glaives were spotted, returning the wave of greeting. Prompto grinned and started pretending that he wasn’t focusing in on the affection and amusement being shared between the friends. At least, Ignis knew that these photos would be personal. They wouldn’t be shared and spread across the kingdom for everyone to see and gawk at; to be added like fuel to the fire of intrigue that was rising with the longer days. </p><p>Gladio rose with Ignis as Noctis waited like an eager puppy for the grinning Nyx now jogging across the intersection to meet him. </p><p>“He’s good for Noctis,” Gladio said. </p><p>Ignis nodded, “Don’t tell him that though.”</p>
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<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Solstice</h2></a>
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    <p>“When did you even have time for all that?”</p><p>The longest night of the year was ending. Above the city the Wall was shimmering with the breaking light barely crossing the cityscape at the eastern border. From Noctis’ balcony the buildings that towered over the sleepless streets started to shine with the slowly rising lights. The glitter of the light against the chrome and glass across the steel grey of the winter sky was almost a mirror of the Wall’s magic arching from the beacon of the Citadel.</p><p>They had spent the night watching the stars from the warmth of Noctis’ apartment, the smell of dinner lingering in the air for hours until the chill of the breeze creeping in from the balcony door when they stepped out every few hours to let the cold wake them. They had spent the night alternating between the comforts of each other’s arms and and the slap in the face the cold solstice air offered to keep them awake through the night.</p><p>Noctis smiled his lazy, lopsided smile as the sun finally breached the jagged skyline. </p><p>“Lots of careful prep and some dumb luck?” </p><p>Nyx kissed Noctis’ temple, braced on the frozen rail as the new horizon started to brighten. The world stretched endlessly ahead of them; Nyx had wrapped himself around Noctis in the chill. They shared the warmth between them as they watched the sunrise. </p><p>“Iggy helped get it set up, didn’t he?”</p><p>The dinner had been full of Galahdian heat— spiced balls of dough and packets of fish seasoned with herbs Noctis couldn’t identify again even if Nyx waved them in dried bundles beneath his nose— and the chill of a Lucian winter. Cold drinks had been replaced with coffee at they started to test their dedications to the real traditions of the kingdom. It had been at Nyx’s insistence, waiting to watch the sunrise after managing the longest night of the year. </p><p>They had passed it in conversation. </p><p>They had passed the night in affectionate teasing until the wind was needed to wake them up for a few hours longer. Texts had been exchanged with friends attempting the same, little notes of encouragement and jokes to keep them laughing as they watched the clouds moving to cover the starry sky mostly obscured by the golden city lights and the shimmer of the Wall. They had watched re-tellings of the stories that surrounded the solstice, of the Lucii, of all the things that were meant to keep Lucians awake just a little longer. Just long enough to see the sun peek its way through the towers. </p><p>“Not in the least, little star,” Nyx smiled as he moved his attentions to Noctis’ hair, jaw, neck. “It’s all me.”</p><p>“I know the spice was.” Noctis smiled, and squirmed beneath the attentions until he had wriggled free enough to start back inside to the warm apartment. Where the curtains could be drawn against the new sunlight and the slightly longer day could be spent catching up on sleep. “And you can’t possibly be awake enough for more kisses.”</p><p>“I’m Galahdian, I’m up for more than just kissing.”</p><p>In Nyx’s expert opinion, every new year— every new dawn— should be met with the laughter of a loved one. Even as he let Noctis dragged him back inside to the warmth and comfort of the blankets they had left on the sofa beneath the wide windows now closed to the growing daylight. Even as Noctis pulled him down to tease him now that they had done their duty in greeting the new dawn with wind-red cheeks and kiss-red lips.  </p><p>Now the days would grow longer and Nyx intended to see them through with Noctis.</p>
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